


Mushroom Ghost

by frubeto



Series: 101 Ways To Bring Back Hugh Culber [2]
Category: Star Trek: Discovery
Genre: Friendship, Hurt/Comfort, I Don't Even Know, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-03
Updated: 2018-08-03
Packaged: 2019-06-21 03:50:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,323
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15548973
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/frubeto/pseuds/frubeto
Summary: Paul returned to the main lab already going through experiments in his head when he passed a workstation and caught a flicker on the display.He stopped.That shouldn’t be happening.





	Mushroom Ghost

**Author's Note:**

> I don't feel like I'm done with this but it needs to go out now because I already have the next two parts planned inside my head and I can't risk forgetting them

 

 

It all started on the day of the first new harvest. 

They spores were coming along nicely, and Paul returned to the main lab already going through experiments and ideas for growth acceleration in his head when he passed a workstation and caught a flicker on the display. 

He stopped. 

That shouldn’t be happening. 

Warily, he put the spores down and ran a quick diagnostic on the console, which came up empty.

 

“Tilly, could you run a scan on electromagnetic interference?”

 

“Sir?”

 

“Just do it.”

 

It was probably nothing, but given the consequences if an interference  _was_ unaccounted for and interacted with the spores, it was better to be safe than sorry.

 

“Nothing out of the ordinary,” Tilly answered, and looked at him questioningly.

 

“I thought I saw something.”

 

He watched the station for a bit longer, then he shook his head and picked the spores back up.

Probably nothing.

 

 

*

 

 

There had been a second where Paul had looked directly at him, and Hugh had been at the verge of euphoria before he’d realized it was only the display. 

But he  _had_ interacted with the real world somehow, and he was determined to do it again. So he followed Paul around, tried to mess with any electric device he could find, the doors, his toothbrush, his PADD, anything to get through to him. It took him a while, but soon he began to figure out the basics. He couldn’t affect everything, the PADD worked best, but not always, and it took a great deal of concentration to keep it up for even a short period of time. The intercom was also possible, but most of the time he didn’t make it before the connection closed. He also didn’t dare to touch the replicators or anything in engineering, not until he knew what he was doing. 

But to understand that, he needed Paul. And he wasn’t listening. With every interference he managed, he could see Paul getting more agitated. Especially because there never seemed to be any physical proof of his presence. Or anything’s presence.

 

Briefly, Hugh considered leaving Paul alone. Letting him grieve in peace instead of annoying him from the grave. But that would be assuming he really was dead, and this certainly didn’t feel like it. Not that he had any reference, but the only description he could think of was a  _ghost_ , and neither of them really believed in those. 

So he decided, one way or another, he couldn’t withhold the scientifically interesting situation from Paul. He just had to work harder to get his message across.

 

 

*

 

 

Paul was sitting in the mess hall with Burnham and Tilly, studying the sensor data from the cultivation bay on his PADD when it flickered again. He all but dropped it on the table and pushed it closer to the two of them, slightly more excited than necessary to see  it continue and finally have somebody else witnessing it.

 

“You see this, right?”

 

Burnham looked at him.

 

“All data seems to be within normal parameters…?”

 

“No, not that.”

 

He pointed down at the device again and they finally picked up on the interruptions.

 

“Maybe there’s a malfunction,” Burnham suggested, and he shook his head.

 

“No. Everything checks out fine. This has been happening to me all the time.”

 

“That’s odd,” Tilly agreed. “It seems too regular for it to be-”

 

She stopped.

  
“Oh.”

 

“What?”

 

She studied the PADD for another three beats to be sure.

  
“That’s an SOS.”

 

When he didn’t immediately react, she explained, 

 

“It’s Morse code, I learned it as a kid. Look!”

 

And he did, and she was right. Shit.

 

 

*

 

 

His doorbell rang, making him look up from the document he’d been staring at for the last 20 minutes.

After a short discussion in the mess hall they had decided to investigate, starting with his quarters, as that was the place where it had occurred most frequently. He had told them he’ d already r u n the most obvious scans and tests, but he couldn’t turn down the help. Not when he was all too happy he wasn’t going crazy about this on his own anymore.

 

“Come.”

 

Tilly entered, fully packed with equipment and grinning, Burnham behind her.

 

“Who you gonna call?” she joked, and Burnham looked at her in utter confusion while Paul couldn’t help but smile.

 

“Get it? Because this is like a ghost?”

 

Burnham’s  made clear that she did not.

 

“Don’t tell me you’ve never seen- It’s an old earth classic!”

 

She put down the trunk she was carrying and caught sight of Paul.

 

“Sorry,” she said quickly, turning around to Burnham. “But we’re _so_ having a holo night tomorrow.”

 

Burnham only raised an eyebrow at her and brought the conversation back to the subject at hand.

 

“Have there been any more incidents?”

 

Paul shook his head.

 

“I had my PADD the whole time. Nothing.”

 

“Hm,” Tilly said, and began scanning the room for any inconsistencies, and the others followed suit.

 

“Are you certain it didn’t occur in engineering again? It seems unlikely to be an outlier in location.”

 

“I’m sure. I kept an extra eye out for anything out of the ordinary after that.”

 

“Maybe whoever this is knows how important and sensitive to radiation our work is and worries they’ll blow something up,” Tilly suggested, and her voice carried an undertone implying she had a very specific someone in mind. He’d told her about the encounter with Hugh in the network and apparently she had connected the same dots he had but didn’t allow himself to consider yet.

 

“Don’t.”

 

“Sorry,” she whispered, and focused back on her tricorder.

 

They continued in silence, until Burnham decided there was no use and put her equipment down.

 

“There are some minor deviations, but nothing strong enough to be considered remarkable,” she announced, and Tilly agreed from the other end of the room.

 

“Maybe we should try to recreate the scenario from the mess hall. What were you doing?”

 

“Monitoring the spores with the live feed from the lab,” he answered, already grabbing his PADD. 

 

And sure enough, when he established the connection it only took a few seconds for the mysterious interference to start up again.

 

“Maybe it is in engineering, after all. Try remote accessing the systems.”

 

He did, and waited some moments for any signs. Nothing happened. 

 

“Or it’s the transmission itself,” Tilly said and spun around to find her PADD and start a video call.

 

“Answer that.”

 

As soon as he did, her face appeared on his screen, interrupted by frenetic flickering.

His head snapped up to look up at the real Tilly, pondering the implications. A simple short-distance call like this was only routed through Discovery’s processors, and since no one else complained about bad quality calls, the problem had to be local. Yet any disturbing signals should have come up on their scans, so what the hell was this?

 

“It’s not _SOS_ anymore,” Burnham noted, her and Tilly having positioned themselves beside him to be able to see the PADD. He nodded, absentmindedly setting the PADD to splitscreen to confirm, as expected, that it was only the transmitted video affected. It was now an irregular interference again, as it probably had been before today.

 

Only when he focused on it once more, it was back to the SOS.

 

“Whoa,” Tilly said, “Can they hear us?”

 

“I wouldn’t-”

 

“Do the federation anthem,” she interrupted. 

 

Probably the easiest way to find out, he admitted. 

There was a pause, and then the flickering started up again in a familiar rhythm.

 

“Oh my god.”

 

They looked at each other in shock for a long moment, spooked by the realization that all their rational explanations just went out the metaphorical window.

 

Unsurprisingly, Tilly was the first to recover.

 

“Okay, two for ‘yes’, one for ‘no’. Can you hear us?”

 

The screen flickered twice.  _yes_

 

“Are you in here?”

 

Another pause, then three flickers.

 

“Three means… ‘I don’t know’?”

 

_yes_

 

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

 

“Has this been you the entire time?”

 

_yes_

 

“Are you the ghost of Doctor Culber?”

 

Paul had every intention of glaring at Tilly for that question but his eyes were glued to the screen, awaiting the answer.

 

Two long flickers. Loud and clear.

 

Alright. 

They were certainly dealing with a living being now, trying to communicate, possibly even in need of help. But the chance that it could be Hugh … 

 

Paul apparently tuned out for a bit while Tilly and Burnham were still asking questions, because when he focused back on the conversation it was about colors, and the answers were coming with a considerable delay now, sometimes faint enough one could miss them in a blink. Burnham seemed to notice as well.

 

“Are you having difficulties?”

 

_yes_

 

“Is there something blocking you?”

 

_no_

 

“Is it hard for you to do this?” Tilly tried.

 

_yes_

 

“Is there any way we can help? Maybe another frequency would make it easier?”

 

The picture remained clear this time. 

 

“Are you still there?”

 

Nothing.

 

After a while, Paul ended the call and slowly put the PADD down, still processing what just happened. 

Tilly was one step ahead.

 

“How is that even possible? I mean, he’s dead. And he’s not- I- Ghosts don’t actually exist, right? So what-?”

 

“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves.”

 

Out of the corner of his eye he saw her wanting to argue but deciding against it.

 

“Whether this is Hugh or not-”

 

“But he literally said-”

 

“They might have just gone with it to get our attention,” he interrupted. “At this point it may only be an elaborate, ill-advised prank. Either way, we need more data. And a better means of communication.”

 

“Well, we could just set up 26 PADDs with all the letters of the alphabet.”

 

“No, I’m not sure if they can be precise enough. Besides, they said it’s hard to do, so maybe we _should_ try another frequency.”

 

He began pacing, now more talking to himself than anyone else.

 

“Any higher and they’d be messing with the display itself instead of the transmission, so let’s go with something lower. Radio? I think I still have...”

 

Trailing off, he started towards engineering.

 

 

It took them another hour to set up a transmitter with an easy melody and a receiver connected to a loudspeaker. Most of it made from scrap found in engineering, slightly alienated from their original purpose.

Whoever they were dealing with should now have been able to interfere with the radio transmission in the same way, resulting in static. 

However, nothing happened.

 

So they decided to call it a day and wait until alpha shift, giving everyone some time to rest and get some sleep.  Even though Tilly admitted that, knowing there’s a ghost on the ship, she probably won’t. And Paul secretly agreed.

 

 

*

 

 

The next day started off better. 

Once they had activated their invention the room filled with static, so much that Tilly questioned for a moment if there wasn’t a technical issue, but then it subsided, as if Doctor Culber was still adjusting his efforts to the new frequency.

They quickly learned two things. 

One, the new method did indeed make it easier for him. 

Two, Culber did  _not_ know enough Morse code to communicate fluently, so Michael pulled up a chart on her PADD and laid it open on the table, which allowed them to hold an agonizingly slow conversation, but a conversation nonetheless.

To get the elephant out of the room, Tilly proposed they start by letting Stamets ask a few questions ‘only the real Hugh Culber could answer’, and he only took a moment to think about it before sitting up straighter with intention.

 

“Alright. Last thing I said to you.”

 

The answer came immediately and Tilly could see everyone trying to follow, but Culber was catching on fast. Precautiously, she typed down the letters on her PADD, and eventually turned it around for Stamets to read when he looked at her cluelessly.

 

I-D-O-N-T-W-A-N-T-T-O-S-A-Y-G-O-O-D-B-Y-E

 

Judging by his lack of reaction, it was correct.

 

“What did you get me for our last anniversary.”

 

There was a longer pause this time, and as the reply formed on her PADD, it confused her more and more. It must have shown on her face, because Stamets was raising an eyebrow at her, so she just held up the PADD, which read

 

I-S-A-I-D-I-M-S-O-R-R-Y

 

and seemed to make sense to him.

 

“Trick question,” he explained. “He forgot.”

 

She smiled, now understanding, and Stamets continued.

 

“What aria did I leave at on our first opera date.”

 

T-U-P-I-U-N-O-N-T-O-R-N-I

 

“How did you get the scar on your left foot.”

 

Another pause. Then,

 

N-I-C-E-T-R-Y

 

She turned the PADD around and Stamets smiled at the answer. She didn’t fully understand, but she suspected it was a running joke between the two of them and didn’t further question it. Maybe it was something embarrassing and Stamets had hoped Culber would have to expose himself. Or Stamets himself didn’t know because Culber kept it an unnecessary secret. 

Either way, it looked like another correct answer and she watched the smile on Stamets’ face slowly fade and get replaced by uncertainty as the realization finally sank in that he might actually be talking to Culber.

 

The room remained quiet as they waited for Stamets to continue his interrogation or give orders, but instead he clenched his jaw and got up to pace around the room, presumably walking off nervous energy. 

So Tilly and Michael continued with questions of scientific nature, like ‘how are you doing this’ and ‘where are you’ and ‘are you in danger’, but the answer was mostly identical: He had no idea. 

 

They did find out, however, that it was easier for him to interact with the world when in proximity to spores, and that he could cause the interference with his voice as well as his presence, the difference of which he was just demonstrating when Stamets returned to the table.

 

“Anything else you can tell us?” Tilly asked, in case their questions hadn’t covered everything, and after a moment the familiar buzzing did indeed start up again. 

She recognized the sentence early and grinned in delight, almost typing down the letters before he had fully formed them. As soon as he finished, she held up the PADD.

 

I-L-O-V-E-Y-O-U

 

Stamets rolled his eyes but she could see him fighting hard against a smile of his own.

 

“Well, _yeah_ , but we knew that already, you’re not being efficient.”

 

There was no further reply from Culber so they began to get ready to leave when Stamets suddenly jumped.

 

“What is it?” Burnham asked, but he didn’t seem sure himself.

 

Paul put his arm back on the table where it had been, and the sensation returned. It wasn’t a touch, since there wasn’t anything near him and it was lacking… something, but when he carefully moved his hand around a few millimeters, it certainly felt like-

 

“I think you can add infrared to the spectrum.”

 

“Oh,” Burnham said.

 

“OH!” Tilly said. 

 

She had her tricorder out before he had even managed to stop staring at his hand and trying to make his sensory processing comprehend what was happening.

 

“Well, Congrats Doctor Culber, you have a heat signature,” she declared.

 

“Burnham, can you find out if this helps explaining how and where our _mystery guest_ exists?”

 

Glancing up, he saw her nod, and Tilly frown.

 

“How are you still not convinced it’s him?”

 

He scoffed.

 

“Do you _remember_ that time I was manipulated into jumping us to another universe?”

 

“Sir...”

 

He stood energetically, pulling his hand back towards him and preparing a lecture. Yet when faced with nothing but her natural optimism and enthusiasm, any harsh words he might have had died before they even left his throat. He sighed. There was no use in letting his frustration out on her, so he went for the truth instead.

 

“I want it to be him, believe me. I want nothing more than-”

 

_to feel his arms around me again. Be able to ask him for advice. Have someone to sit in the mess hall with. Talk. Fight. Annoy each other. Share a life._

 

He swallowed hard, grimacing to regain control of his features.

 

“But that’s exactly why I can’t get my hopes up over some disturbed transmission.”

 

Tilly’s face fell as she apparently understood.

 

“Okay,” she said, and he had the distinct impression she took that as a challenge to proof him wrong, which, if he was being honest, he found he didn’t mind.

 

 

*

 

 

Paul let the door close behind them and slowly turned around, eyeing the improvised device warily.

 

“I love you, too,” he whispered. “Just in case.”

 

And Hugh’s heart broke a little as he walked over to Paul, looking too small and lost in his own quarters. He put all his effort into the touch as he cupped his face with both hands and carefully kissed him on the forehead, hoping that somehow he could make him feel that he’s there. 

And he could tell by the way Paul tensed that he did.

When Hugh let go, there were tears pooling in Paul’s eyes, and as they threatened to fall he closed them, exhaling roughly.

 

“Sorry.”

 

He didn’t specify, but after the years they spent together, Hugh could extrapolate.  _Sorry_ that I can’t believe you right now. _Sorry_ that I’m being skeptical instead of trying to help you.  _Sorry_ for being so difficult about this.

He shook his head pointlessly.

 

“It’s okay, really,” he said, and heard the ensuing static from somewhere behind him.

 

“I know you, remember? I understand. And we’ll figure this out somehow. Don’t worry.”

 

He was reassuring himself now, mostly, and he knew it, but who was there to care?

 

“I’m just glad I finally got through to someone. I don’t know what’s happening. But between the three of you I’m confident you’re going to find a way to sort this out. Everything’s going to be fine, okay? I’m sure.”

 

Paul smiled, and Hugh wondered for a moment if he had heard him, before,

 

“Are you _monologuing_?”

 

 

*

 

 

Tilly entered engineering just short of running, clearly excited.

 

“So I talked to a friend in communications, and I think we can manage to get a voice recording.”

 

“Ensign...”

 

She didn’t let Paul stop her.

 

“Remember how the interference sounded different when he talked?”

 

He made an affirmative sound prompting her to go on.

 

“What if we could separate that from what’s caused by mere proximity.”

 

“And then?”

 

“Develop an algorithm that calculates the original sound from the disturbance.”

 

“A spectroscopy,” Burnham agreed, walking around her station in interest.

 

“Exactly.”

 

They looked at Paul expectantly, and after thinking it through for a long moment he had to admit that it could possibly work. Tilly beamed.

 

“Permission to set up an experiment in the cultivation bay?”

 

“...Granted.”

 

She skipped over to the doors and entered, presumably to find the perfect spot among the spores.

Burnham turned to him.

 

“Sir…?”

 

“Go. None of us will get any work done with the hopefully metaphorical elephant still in the room. I’ll join you once I finish this.”

 

She nodded and then followed Tilly into the forest.

 

 

They spent a while just gathering different sensors and equipment they might need and planning the setup. They were working fast and efficient and it was only when they were waiting for a spare part to be handed out to them from another section and the silence stretched, that Burnham got to ask what she had wanted to for some time.

 

“Why is this so important to you?”

 

Tilly looked at her, confused about the question at first, then confused about the question.

 

“Are you serious? There’s a ghost on the ship!” she laughed.

 

Burnham didn’t seem convinced, but Tilly decided to leave it at that, until the wait wore on and she kept watching Stamets work alone in the lab, and couldn’t keep quiet.

 

“They deserve a happy ending.”

 

Burnham looked up at that.

 

“Everything that’s happened to them- Their story wasn’t supposed to go like this.”

 

“We lost a lot of people in the war,” Burnham said, expression unreadable.

 

“I know. Shit, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean-”

 

She sighed.

 

“Of course you deserve a happy ending as well. Most of us do. What happened was… terrible, and I’m _so_ sorry. But I can’t change that. I can’t help you. I can’t help any of the others. Maybe I _can_ help Stamets.”

 

Tilly was tearing up a little, but fought against it to watch Burnham for any sign of understanding, visibly relaxing when she found it. There was a small smile on her face, and her hand went to Tilly’s arm, and for a moment Tilly thought she was going in for a hug, before Ensign K’ar finally turned up with their required items an they were on their way again.

 

They continued to work in silence, and by the time Stamets did show up it was the end of beta shift and they were just getting ready to start. They quickly explained their plan to him and he nodded his approval.

 

“The only thing we need- Well, not _need_ , but it would be a lot easier if-”

 

“Do you have access to Starfleet’s voice recognition files for Doctor Culber?”

 

He stared ahead at her for a second, probably thinking, before he took his PADD and tapped away at it. Tilly’s PADD pinged, and Stamets walked over to one of the railings to sit on and observe the proceedings. Only then did she realize his slowed movements weren’t showing pensiveness but exhaustion, or at least a headache, and knowing the next part was going to be tedious, Burnham decided this was not a good idea.

 

“Sir, perhaps you should get some rest. We’ve got this. And it’s going to take a while.”

 

“I’m alright.”

 

“Lieutenant Commander Stamets-”

 

“Don’t you dare pull rank on me now.”

 

Burnham smiled and was about to continue when Tilly piped up.

 

“With all due respect, sir, you look like you need it. Go home,” she said, mischievously adding, “I’m sure Doctor Culber agrees with me.”

 

And naturally there were two buzzes coming from somewhere behind him and he turned to glare in the general direction.

 

“Fine,” he decided. “Keep me updated. Wake me with any breakthrough.”

 

“Of course.”

 

They watched him get up and leave and then turned their attention back to their experiment.

 

“Alright. Doctor Culber, are you there?”

 

Another two buzzes.

 

“Good. This _is_ going to take a while, are you feeling up to it?”

 

_yes_

 

“We will need a reference later, so I’m just looking for something you could read,” Tilly explained while scrolling through a selection on her PADD. “How about some classics. What’s your opinion on pre-warp earth literature?”

 

It wasn’t actually a question, since she had already randomly picked one and he couldn’t answer except for a clear ‘NO’ – and he didn’t – so she put the PADD down in front of them.

 

“Michael?”

 

“Ready.”

 

She gave Culber the signal to start and he did, judging by the buzzing filling the air, which she quickly turned off after checking their readings to be sure they were receiving the data through other channels now. There were some adjustments necessary until things were running the way they planned, but after a short while everything was looking good and they gave Culber a fresh page to read and when he finished fed the data to the computer.

 

“Do you think this will work?” Tilly asked while they waited, and Michael put her PADD down.

 

“It would be highly illogical for me to be here with you if I believed it wouldn’t.”

 

“No, I mean, I know it _might_ work, but are you expecting it to?”

 

Michael looked at her, not answering right away but giving it some thought and Tilly was grateful. Because it made the eventual, careful, 

 

“Yes.” 

 

worth so much more. She smiled, her old optimism back, and when the computer spat out an algorithm and a two-minute audio file a surprisingly short time later, she was eager to hear the results.

 

So was Michael, apparently, as she let her PADD play the file before even opening the code and they both listened in stunned silence to the recording.

 

“That’s horrible.”

 

Michael seemed to agree, but instead said, “It’s only the first try.” while pulling up the code and the visualization of the audio file.

 

“I know, I was just kind of hoping for more.”

 

“Look at this.”

 

Tilly did.

 

“It _is_ working. We only need way more data,” Michael explained, pointing at the visualization.

 

“Well, Doctor Culber, I hope you’re enjoying the book so far, because you’re getting to read the rest of it as well!” 

 

 

*

 

 

Hugh was, in fact, not enjoying the book.

But he was more than willing to put up with it if it meant getting to talk to Paul, so he kept reading, Burnham and Tilly kept turning the page for him when he’d finished and feeding the data to the computer, and it kept refining their algorithm with every new bit of information.

 

Until a few hours and about a quarter of the book later, Tilly stopped him, saying the backlog had grown big enough that it wouldn’t make sense to continue and they would wait for the results first and he was free to leave and ‘go do whatever ghosts do in their spare time’.

So he did.

He checked on Paul first, naturally, but he had somehow managed to find sleep, so he decided to let him be and instead roamed the corridors of Discovery for a bit, paying a visit to sickbay, the mess hall, the bridge – might as well find out if the new captain was as much of an asshole as the last – until eventually he was drawn back to their quarters, where he stayed for a while, watching Paul sleep from the couch, not wanting to disturb him, content for now with being close to him.

 

 

Returning to engineering was an instinct more than an educated guess, but the computer started softly beeping and announcing the completion of his task only seconds after he arrived. Not that anyone noticed. Burnham and Tilly had both fallen asleep somewhere along the line, leaning against each other and the railing, Tilly snoring into Burnham's shoulder. He smiled. Even if he wasn’t sure  _what_ it was, these guys had certainly found  _something_ in the short time they had been here together, and he was happy for them. 

 

They might make an even odder couple than he and Paul did, but it worked out. They both had qualities he admired them for and he liked them both, especially now that they were putting so much effort into helping him. 

God, how would they ever repay them?

 

Finally, Burnham stirred, and with her Tilly woke, clearing her throat and sitting up straight when she realized their position. Burnham didn’t mind, though, and leaned forward to grab her PADD from one of the instruments instead of returning to their previous position. She silenced the notification and apparently went to play the new files, because Tilly caught her hand.

 

“Wait.”

 

“What?”

 

“I’m not ready.”

 

Hugh shook his head, but he could understand her excitement only too well.  _This could be it._

 

“Tilly...”

 

“Sorry, just. Alright. Go.”

 

There was heavy static, not as bad as before, but still only static, and he prepared himself to have his hopes shattered along with Tilly’s, when he thought he heard something.

 

“...-lear as I set off-… -ward Interstate 5- … -ly, and I don’t have to b-… -il two this afternoon.”

 

Burnham typed out a few commands, probably letting another standard algorithm run over the audio while it played, because he could suddenly hear himself much more clearly.

 

“… a huge twenty-story office building, all curved glass and steel, an architect’s utilitarian fantasy, with _grey house_ written discreetly in steel over the glass front doors. It’s a quarter to two when I-”*

 

“Holy shit.”

 

Hugh found himself agreeing once more. He could not believe his luck and had never been more grateful for his partner being so picky about his coworkers and only surrounding himself with absolute geniuses.

 

“What are you doing?” Tilly asked suddenly, probably in response to Burnham.

 

“Notifying Stamets.”

 

“I’m not sure we should...”

 

“He asked to be informed of any new developments.”

 

“Yes. But he’s probably asleep. And what’s the point in showing him a recording of Culber reading about office buildings. This is cool. But we can do better. Let’s improve this, wake him in the morning.”

 

When Burnham kept thinking about it, Tilly added,

 

“He said he doesn’t want to get his hopes up, and this is still no solid proof.”

 

Hugh decided he had to intervene, but since Tilly had deactivated their first communication device, he tried to sent one of their sensors spiking instead.

 

“I… think he wants to say something?”

 

And finally Burnham agreed to do some more tests first, starting with letting Hugh speak freely, and seeing how well the algorithm would cope with that. So he spent about 5 minutes just thanking them, before asking for Paul to be left alone. He couldn't have had more than a few hours of sleep in the last couple of days and this could wait until morning.

Then another thought crossed his mind.

 

“Is it possible to get it working fast enough to hold a conversation? I would love to be able to properly talk to him.”

 

His message got through with only a little more tweaking, and Burnham and Tilly were more than happy to oblige. Well, Tilly was, but she had a way of convincing people.

 

They kept talking, if one could call it that with the onesided delay they were facing, partly about his situation, but mostly just smalltalk to let the algorithm learn. When they were not speaking or listening, or fine-tuning the audio file, Tilly and Burnham worked on the device itself, making it smaller by putting it together more efficiently and throwing away those sensors whose input turned out to be irrelevant or redundant. Their intent, he realized, was to make it portable so they could bring it up to Paul’s quarters – an idea Hugh wholeheartedly supported. 

 

 

*

 

 

Paul was on his way to engineering when the door opened to Burnham and Tilly waiting for him. With no new messages in the morning he had expected them to have given up during the night and slept instead, but judging by their looks they hadn’t.

 

“Good Morning,” he greeted, waiting for an explanation.

 

“Good Morning,” Tilly answered cheerfully although lacking her usual energy, holding up a device. “Can we come in?”

 

He stepped aside and they entered, putting the thing down on his desk. 

 

“Tilly’s plan was indeed successful and we were able to not only produce a voice recording, but also achieve a short enough reconstruction time to make conversation possible. You might want to sit down.”

 

He didn’t.

 

“It’s not real-time,” Tilly took over and pointed at the top of the device. “This light indicated when it picks up Culber talking and it’s recording, and then the algorithm works its magic and we get a mostly clear audio back. You can read through all our documentation to verify for yourself that we’re not bullshitting.”

 

Paul let her choice of words pass in favor of investigating the machine on his desk curiously.

 

“And this is working?”

 

“Well...” Tilly started, but the aforementioned light interrupted her. She smiled.

 

“ _I spent the night reading twenty-first century fiction for this, it better be.”_

 

Paul froze, feeling the unmistakable sound of Hugh’s voice like a blow to the ribs and regretted not sitting down now.

 

“… Hugh…?” he whispered, his visitors completely forgotten and focus solely on the little red light.

 

“ _It’s really me, you can stop worrying now.”_

 

Paul barely managed to sink into the chair next to him.

 

“ _I told you it wasn’t goodbye.”_

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> * The book Hugh is reading, you might have guessed it, is Fifty Shades Of Grey by E L James. A true masterpiece among earth's twenty-first century bestsellers.  
> (It was supposed to be Twilight at first, and I already had the perfect paragraph and everything, but then I actually read the pages of 50 shades available online and good god that physically hurt my eyes.)
> 
> I'm also on [tumblr](http://frubeto.tumblr.com) btw if anyone feels like talking to me :)


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